


How to Make Princess Pancakes

by macpetreshock



Series: The Reason for it All: Tom Hiddleston One Shots [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom, Tom Hiddleston RPF, tom hiddleston - RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Dad Tom Hiddleston, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Feels, Fluff, Home, Love, Married Couple, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, RPF, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macpetreshock/pseuds/macpetreshock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom has finally wrapped filming of The Night Manager and is back home with Claire and Abbie, but his daughter makes this Sunday morning anything but typical.</p><p>(2nd in the one shot series. Nonlinear timeline for stories but should be read in order for better understanding of the characters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Make Princess Pancakes

Lazy Sunday mornings were a rarity in the Hiddleston household; however, with Tom finally returned from over three months of shooting The Night Manager, the indulgence sounded perfect. And after the late night Tom and Claire spent reacquainting themselves with every inch of each other’s bodies, neither of them were in any hurry to move out of their comfortable king-sized bed.

           Yet Tom awoke earlier than necessary, too used to production schedules and morning runs for his body to sleep in “late” by any normal person’s standards, no matter how much he’d rather be sleeping. Claire snored softly, and he mentally added asking if she’d been taking her allergy medication and checking the HEPA air filters onto his to-do list.

It was the little things such as that Tom liked best about married life. Having a partner in life, someone to love and be loved by, someone to plan a future with, and someone to raise a family with were the big goals, but he always made a point of appreciating the small and simple beauties in life, the ones that fueled his positivity and thankfulness daily. Nothing compared to sharing life with someone who knew his every eccentricity, his every tell, the routines and habits he didn’t want others to see.

And he knew Claire with equal intimacy. Tom had long ago learned she only called him ‘Thomas’ when she was about to ask him anything she thought he might shoot down, and that his wife who could navigate the house with catlike stealth could easily storm through it with the force of an army if provoked to fury. Loud music and dancing were the norm when she cooked, but melancholy tunes and the southern comfort foods of her native Georgia served for dinner meant it was due time he booked them flights for a couple weeks with her family in America.

Tom pulled his wife closer, not waking her, but having missed lying in bed beside her. The pendant on Claire’s necklace slid down, and he didn’t need to look to know exactly what it was and what it said. He’d given it to her on their six-month anniversary of dating, a heart-shaped locket engraved with “Yours, TWH” on the back and “CXXI” on the front as a reminder of the first Shakespearean sonnet he ever recited to her, quite nervously, the night he admitted to Claire that he loved her.

_“If love is an ever-fixed mark then I hope I’m not wrong in believing you feel the same as I do, Claire, because my heart is forever fixed upon you. I love you now and will love you more a year from now, in five years, ten, twenty, fifty.” Tears filled her eyes as she barely whispered those three words he needed so desperately to hear. Cupping her face in his hands, he wiped away the tears. “One day, when the time is right, I will marry you, Claire.”_

But the quiet of the morning and time to reminisce disappeared at the sound of someone fiddling with their doorknob, finally opening the door, and skipping into the room, straight for Tom’s side of the bed where he was rolled with his back facing the intruder.

“Daddy?” came a less-than-quiet whisper.

“Quiet voices now, Abigail. Mummy’s still sleeping.” Tom extricated himself from his soundly sleeping wife, and turned toward his daughter in her Cinderella pajamas, blonde curls askew, grey stuffed bear in her arms. “If you want, we can make pancakes, but that means Baloo must be tucked back into bed whilst I wash up for the morning then we’ll get you ready.”

“Baloo can’t help us?”

Tom recalled the last time Baloo ‘helped’ them, ending with the stuffed bear dropped in the bowl of pancake batter and Abbie crying for two solid hours while her favorite plushie went through the wash. “Not this morning, princess. Daddy’s missed you and wants some special time with _just_ you, not even sharing my sweet princess with big ‘ol Baloo. But maybe he can join us for a game of Candyland later.”

Seemingly satisfied, Abbie bounced off down the hallway, curls springing in every direction. Tom ran a hand through his hair, shorter and blonder than usual for his role as Jonathan Pine, but he knew damn well his daughter was cursed with his genetics, though he had to admit, he liked the blonde curls far better on his darling little girl.

Teeth brushed, hair finger-combed to some semblance of civility, and comfortable in his favorite grey sweatpants, blue tee, and black cardigan, Tom went in search of the ray of sunshine in his life. Only painfully discovering one lost hair clip in the hall with his bare feet, he found her awaiting him in her bedroom’s en suite, attempting to put her own toothpaste on her light-up princess toothbrush… a disaster waiting to happen.

“Let me get that, sweetheart,” Tom said gently, slipping them from her hands without resistance. It was always easier when he first returned from filming, when she missed him too much for too long, and her happiness to have Daddy back won over her mile-wide stubborn streak.

Soon, he had her properly cleaned up with a ponytail, high and exactly centered, an art he’d long perfected, and in her Hello Kitty ballerina costume she insisted on wearing with her pink, glittery Mary Janes. Some battles, Tom didn’t even try to fight, and his three-year-old’s fashion preferences was one of them.

Tom could only laugh silently and go along with it, though he did take a photo and shot it off with a quick text to Hugh. “ _Every reason filming took too long._ ”

Everything in the kitchen was just as it had been before he’d left. He and Claire had a deal on that. Home didn’t change while he was away. Any furniture moving, cabinet reorganization, or redecorating would only ever happen when Tom could be part of it, never feeling like a stranger when walking into his own home.

While Abbie helped by getting the mixing bowl and whisk, her daddy gathered the ingredients, quickly finding the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, milk, and eggs. He mentally added to his growing to-do list: pick up milk and eggs, etc. Replace lightbulb in fridge.

Hugh finally responded. “ _How did you ever leave that doll?_ ”

With a grin, Tom quickly replied, “ _I ask myself that every time I walk out the door,_ ” before setting his phone aside to focus on his pride and joy. Abbie giggled as he set her up on the granite island worktop, and even with the ‘help’ of a three-year-old, their batter was soon smooth and ready.

“Daddy, you ‘member how to make princess pancakes, or do you forget now?”

Placing a gentle kiss on Abbie’s forehead, unsure what exactly her question really meant, he answered. “Of course I do, my silly girl.” As he pulled the pink food coloring and silver baker’s sprinkles out of the cabinet, the question repeated in his head, bringing every line of worry to prominence. “Why would I ever forget such an important recipe as princess pancakes?”

Abigail turned her wide blue eyes up at him in the way only she could break his heart without a word, and he didn’t understand what he’d done. “When you’re gone for a long time, Mummy says you’re ‘acting’ kind of like playing pretend ‘cause it’s your job.” Tom carefully mixed the coloring in, creating the right shade of pink before adding the sprinkles and waited for Abbie to continue explaining what was on her mind. “So what if your job is being another daddy and you like it better and forget how to be my daddy?” She finished in a rush of barely comprehensible words, streams of tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh, Abbie…” Tom scooped his daughter into his arms, unsurprised she wrapped herself around him like a monkey holding onto a tree for dear life. “No matter what my job is, where it takes me, or who I pretend to be, every single day, I tell people about you and your mum and show them photos because I miss you so much it could fill all the oceans and seas and rivers in the world. And I miss you because I love you to the moon and back and more than all the stars in the night sky.” With an extra squeeze and kiss on the cheek, he added, “No job pretending to be someone else could ever be better than being your daddy. I’d never give this up, Abigail, princess pancakes included.”


End file.
